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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945698">Bray Wyatt- Young Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skellyagogo/pseuds/Skellyagogo'>Skellyagogo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>WWE</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Falling In Love, Fan-fiction, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Heavy Angst, Lost Love, Love, Love Confessions, Teen Angst, controlling parents</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:35:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945698</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skellyagogo/pseuds/Skellyagogo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Neighbors since childhood, friends with a bond.  Infected by love and torn apart by family.  All of the things that had to happen for the Universe to align for a chance meeting again.</p><p> <br/>*** Inspired by a late-night with lack of sleep and my playlist on shuffle.  Written while listening to Taylor Swift's Love Story.  ***</p><p> </p><p>It's called Fanfiction, don't like it, don't read it.  No need to send nasty comments.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bray Wyatt- Young Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Love always comes in unexpected places, especially when you aren't looking for it.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    
  </b>
</p><p>A stack of books in her hands, practically covering her face as she walked down the hallway. Teachers loved her, the school librarian adored her, but the other kids despised her. High school was rough when you didn't want to fit in with the rest of the crowd and she stood out whether she wanted to or not. Too smart to fit in anywhere, too tall to hide, high school just sucked.</p><p>The other kids made fun of her and try as she might, she couldn't always ignore them. She didn't care about designer clothes, or sports, or makeup. She'd rather study and get ahead instead of attending school dances. All she wanted to do was get through her schooling as fast as possible so she could get out of town. Leave all of it in her dust without a second look in the rearview mirror.</p><p>Freshman year was the worst. Coming into school as the low woman on the totem pole. Her circle of friends was nonexistent except for the occasional smile and hushed conversation from the boy that lived next to her. They'd lived next door to each other since they were kids. Their parents were friends which meant the occasional dinner over at the other's house or grilling out on the weekends. She just didn't have that much in common with him anymore not since the school year started besides sharing an ancient tree that bordered their backyards and the treehouse that his father had built within it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Turning the corner of the disinfectant soaked hallway on the way to her locker, a small group of popular jocks struck. One of them stuck his foot out and smiled as she tumbled to the ground. Books scattering down the hall, bouncing off the walls. They were ruthless and relentless. Teasing her, calling her names. Telling her she'd never be anything because she was too plain, too ugly, too much of a freak. She was too tall, her nose always stuck in a book. They made her feel less than them because she hardly wore makeup and never 'girly' clothes.</p><p>She favored her grubby sneakers, the same style of Converse in an array of colors.  Doodles and drawings in black and blue ink sketched around the rubber edge.  Baggy sweatshirts and hoodies that covered and hid her face.  Messy buns and ponytails.  Jeans that were ripped at the knees, the hems stained with splotches of mud she could never wash out after one too many walks through the rain.  She was different and never minded one bit.</p><p>He could hear them from around the corner and he hated it. Hated the way the rest of them spoke to her. The foul things they said about her just because she was smarter than all of them. He knew it was all bullshit, that they were just threatened by her but in that school, sports ruled not intelligence and books. He knew all too well, they only tolerated him because he was the best damned defensive tackle the school had in years. He was the only freshman to have won a state wrestling championship.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="media-holder media-holder-draggable media-holder-hr"><hr class="tmblr-truncated"/>
<p></p></div><p> </p><p>"Leave her alone." He stood menacing, glaring down at the group who paid him no mind.</p><p>"Why should we?"</p><p>"Yeah, is the freak your girlfriend?!"</p><p>"Leave. Her. Alone." Stepping closer, towering over the group of older boys who questioned whether or not their group could take him on.</p><p>He flexed and lunged forward sending the boys scrambling down the hall racing to getaway. They'd all seen his anger out on the football field and didn't want the same treatment he'd give to the away teams. Staring after them making sure they didn't come back while she crawled picking up her books.</p><p>Her hair was messy and falling out of its ponytail, her glasses sat crooked on her nose. Draped in a hooded sweatshirt three sizes too big for her. Worn out black Chuck Taylor's on her feet, the same kind she'd worn since she was a kid. He was trying his hardest to suppress a smile watching her. Too smart to play into what the bullies wanted and too stubborn to walk away and give them any satisfaction. She was just as adorably stubborn as the first time they met as kids when her parents moved into the house next door.</p><p>"You didn't have to do that, ya know."</p><p>He loved the sound of her voice. Just low enough to sound sexy with a little hint of raspiness to it like she just woke up. That sound was always on his mind, floating around inside his head sweetly calling his name like she used to.  He hated how in his head he'd gotten, how easily he believed all the bullshit about high school and the clicks.</p><p>Y/n liked to sing while doing her homework, that voice of hers intoxicating to him as it drifted in through his bedroom window each day. Distracted from his whole stack of school work, his attention would drift out his window towards hers. He'd smile watching her silhouette behind her curtains.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Course I did," he sighed leaning over to help pick up her books.</p><p>"We don't run in the same circles anymore WinRo. This isn't middle school," she stood cocking her head to the side frowning. "Didn't you want to be popular?  I thought you wanted people to like you?"</p><p>"You still like me, don't you?  If <em><b>you </b></em>do then that's all that matters, right?" Nudging her shoulder with a smirk.</p><p>"That's not what I meant and you know it. I don't give a shit what these assholes think of me, but you always said you wanted to be popular, get into the good parties, find yourself a hot girl to take to the prom."</p><p>Y/n avoided his starry-eyed gaze as she tried to take her books from his hands, but he took a step back smiling. It wasn't hard for Y/n to find herself getting lost in those big blue/grey eyes of his. He may have been hulking and tall, some considered him intimidating, but he'd always be that little boy who stayed by her side scared and crying after she'd broken her leg falling out of his treehouse.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Those things aren't as important as I thought they were besides those 'good' parties suck."</p><p>"Oh right," her voice oozing sarcasm as she rolled her eyes.</p><p>"They do, now enough about trivial shit. You think you could help me with Hansen's history assignment?"</p><p>"Seriously WinRo?!"</p><p>"Come on," he smirked as they walked down the hallway. "Like old times, me and you in the treehouse."</p><p>"Is this some sorta pity thing?" She stopped peering up into his eyes trying to read between the lines.</p><p>"NO!" He shook his head, eyes blown wide offended. "I just ... is it so wrong that I miss hanging out with you? We used to have a lot of fun together."</p><p>"You wanna study ... in the treehouse?" Quirking an eye as he held open the door for her. Afternoon sunlight blinding her eyes. "What about practice?"</p><p>"Meh, what's one missed practice? Besides, I'd probably have to sit out after chasing away the coach's son." Flashing a snarky wink that made her laugh.</p><p> </p><p>~~~~~</p><p> </p><p>It was a slow burn the rest of freshman school year. A blossoming love between two childhood friends. Sneaking out late at night when they could and meeting in the treehouse. Their first kiss was awkward and clumsy, both fumbling and laughing especially after they'd knocked their foreheads together rushing in too quickly.</p><p>He was gentle with her, more than his large stature would have led anyone to believe. Tender and sweet and ever so loving. He held onto her, her body molding into his, more content just to hug her close while listening to her read.</p><p>Running his fingers through her hair, smiling to himself seeing the way her eyes would roll close as he did so. The sound of the delicate contented hum vibrated in her throat. It was all new, bright and shiny, sweet and tender. Everything about their newfound romance was felt in every part of their little teenage hearts.</p><p>Young love, everything about it felt so deeply intense and forever. Time away from each other was agony whether it be the torture of a class that the other wasn't in or having to say good night and having to wait until morning to see that goofy smile.</p><p>She went to his football games, cheered loud and proud each time he took the field. They celebrated every win and she made the frustration of a loss disappear. Holding hands while walking down the school hallways, lunches in the courtyard. Young love, when everything seemed forever.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He'd become her Knight in Shining Armor protecting her from the bullshit of high school and she'd become his savior from a less than perfect home life. They grew to need each other, to depend on each other. A shoulder to lean on and an ear that was always there to listen. Arms that clutched the other tight assuring them that things would get better. They needed each other like a fish needed water. The understanding and non-judgment from each other. They held each other's secrets, locked them up tight within themselves under lock and key.</p><p>She wanted to be an author, wanted to write a prolific novel that people couldn't put down. To write something that would inspire a new generation of people to fall in love with reading.  He'd always joked that she was 'burdened with glorious purpose, but could never figure out what to do with it' She had the ability to change the world, to make a difference, but she could never get her mind to slow down long enough to grasp at just where to start.</p><p>He wanted to make a name for himself, to not live under the recognition and fame of his family's name. It was important that he was something more than what they were, that he wasn't compared to them, but as his own man. He loved the roar of the crowd whenever he hit the field, the chanting of his name. He wanted to entertain people, make them smile, give them something to root for. But deep down inside his heart of hearts, he wanted to make enough money to give Y/n everything he felt she deserved.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It was all-out chaos when her parents found out about them. The friendship between the families dissolved and become toxic. His parents loved Y/n and felt she'd done wonders for their son, but Y/n's parents despised the union. Ranting and raving over her potential being wasted on a kid that had dreams of being a wrestler. Her parents screamed until they were blue in the face that she was throwing her life away.</p><p>Forbidding her from seeing him didn't work, if anything it made her want to see him more. She thought he was worth the world and more. She'd endure all the bad imaginable just so he knew he was loved. Y/n wanted the best for him because he deserved it, all the love, all the affection, everything, he deserved everything under the sun. He loved her just the way she was and there wasn't any better feeling than being loved like that.</p><p>Teachers were sternly warned by her parents to keep the two of them apart. They went as far as threatening the school with lawsuits not believing their wishes would be fulfilled. As if the teachers and the administration didn't have more important things to worry about than two teenagers in love.</p><p>It was an emotional rollercoaster for the two of them. After the first time, her parents had busted her sneaking back in the house from seeing him, they sealed her windows shut, put alarms on all the doors and windows. Y/n had become a prisoner in her home due to overzealous parents.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Some would say they were over-exaggerating the situation and almost all would agree. None could quite understand why her parents were so controlling suddenly. What did it matter if Y/n was in love with him? Her grades never slipped, they were steady, then again she was in all honors classes. His grades yo-yo'd, before they began dating they were average, but after, they improved so much his teachers accused him of cheating.</p><p>One day he was bidding Y/n goodbye as the school day ended, lavishing her with kisses before her mother showed up to escort her home, the next Y/n was gone. He didn't see hide nor hair of her at school the next day. Not a soul had seen her, but his teachers seemed like they knew. All throughout the day he was met with the same solemn look.</p><p>He couldn't shake the feeling of dread throughout the day, it festered and grew. Seeing the moving truck pulling out of her driveway dropped him to his knees. Slamming roughly into the concrete of the sidewalk, his brain ceasing to function. He felt like he'd been kicked in the gut like his heart had been stomped into nothingness. Watching helplessly as the moving truck rolled down the street, the front door to her house left wide open.</p><p>Scrambling to his feet he ran. Moving on autopilot without a thought. Rushing past the thresh hold of the front door, nothing but bits of packing tape and dust bunnies. Outlines of pictures and paintings shadowed on the walls.  Sweeping from room to room, his voice hoarsely calling out for her. Weakly screaming out her name. Ambling up the stairs, bouncing off the walls of the hallway as he made his way down to her bedroom.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He kicked open the door with such a rage the doorknob stuck into the drywall. Hangers still hung in her closet but not a stitch of clothing. Posters of her favorite bands hung on the wall as if they weren't even an afterthought for the movers. The flowery patchwork curtains still strung up over her window. Indentations left in the plush carpet from where her bed and desk had sat in the same place for years.</p><p>He could see the scuff marks on the wall where her desk used to be. Blackened bit of rubber left from her sneakers each time she stretched out her legs when homework was too frustrating. Her feet would bang against the wall and skid up the slick paint leaving trail marks. So many years sitting in that spot, and how many times did she look up from her school work and out that window and see him across the way?</p><p>Spinning around in circles in the middle of her room, unable to fathom that it was real. That any of this was really happening. It had to be a bad dream, he was really asleep in history class. This was all just a nightmare brought on by some bad pizza. Y/n couldn't be gone. There was no way this was happening.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He couldn't breathe, there was just no air making its way into his lungs. Gasping and panting for air, tugging and pulling at the collar on his shirt. Trying anything to lessen the feeling of the icy grip that seemed to choke him. There was a weight on his chest, a heavy sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.</p><p>Pain, so much pain that it hurt to think. It hurt too much being in this room, seeing years of her life left like trash scattered along the carpeted floor. A lone earring stuck in the carpet, crumbled balls of notebook paper tossed where her trash can used to be. A scarf left hanging over the handle to the closet door.</p><p>Why would they leave the shelves that hung on the walls? Or the fairy lights strung up on the ceiling? Why did they leave the potted plant on her window sill as if it wasn't a living thing?  Did her life, her happiness mean that little to them that they would leave those things behind?  All those posters on the wall of bands they wanted to see together.  The places they wanted to travel and it meant nothing to her parents.  </p><p>That's when he saw it. A tiny little square with its corner stuck in the baseboard trim. It's white border and shiny middle. Two young faces looking at the camera lens; smiles that didn't yet know the harshness of the real world. Scribbled handwriting at the bottom. He remembered that day in the treehouse. It was a couple of days before he'd asked her to be his, to be his promise of forever and a day; he wanted her to be his last girlfriend ever. Even as a boy, the first time he laid on her, he knew she was the one.</p><p> </p><p>*******</p><p> </p><p>Y/n was called up to WWE, scouted during an amateur match in Mexico. She'd moved from circuit to circuit in search of something she could never find. Always hoping, always dreaming, but it seemed forever left disappointed. Years had been spent in vain in her search and she was starting to give up hope.</p><p>The whole roster was in a fuss about her for weeks but he never noticed. He stopped paying attention to women, none of them able to hold a light to '<em><b>her</b></em>'. They all seemed vapid and vain, unable to care about anything other than fake eyelashes and designer clothes.  Fake tans and expensive sports cars, the latest trends, and the hot 'it' places to be seen.  Their conversations bored him to no end. They never spoke of anything that matter, never spoke of their passions or what made them get up in the morning; it was nothing but material possessions and what <b><em>HE</em></b> could do for them, they never cared about him.</p><p>He did what he always did, thought of the past and what could have been. That's what it always boiled down to, what he could never forget. His mother always worried for him, afraid he was too far gone into the past, unable to live in the now. He tried to live, tried to move on but nothing he ever did made him feel. He was just going through the motions, forever it seemed on auto-pilot, barely living, just surviving another day alone.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Her match was a rough one, already pushed into the main event match to show her skills to the world. Y/n was a sight to see, fierce and agile, commanding a performance as none had seen in ages. If only anyone had ever noticed the dead faraway look in her eyes.  It was a fight like no other and it seemed as if she was going to win.</p><p>The first time that a storyline hadn't been created for the match, that McMahon had left the outcome to the wrestlers themselves. Y/n had the upper hand but Becky Lynch wasn't taking it easy on her. Becky could see her power, her abilities matching if not better than hers and she just couldn't bear the thought of losing to a newcomer. Neither could Becky's boyfriend Seth Rollins who resorted to cheating, joining her in the ring.</p><p>Over and over they pummeled her. A hit on the back with a steel chair, a Superkick to the face. Seth hit her with a kick to the back on her knee sending her crumbling to the mat. They were relentless in their assault, the crowd chanting 'asshole' with each strike they landed.</p><p>So much pain, too much pain that had crossed the line from theatrics for the crowd and into pure hatred. Too many hits that had gone overboard. Y/n was hurt, too stubborn to tap out. Trying to crawl to the ropes to pull herself up, but they kept bringing the pain. Stomp after stomp down on her leg. The ref finally called for the bell, a disqualification, but they didn't relent.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It was the scream that caught his attention walking past a tv screen in catering. A shrill cry of agony that sounded so familiar that it echoed in his ears. An old wound opening inside him, like a scab unintentionally pulled away from healing skin. His heart skipped a beat, studdered and thumped slowly as he stared at that tiny screen. There was something about those eyes that the cameraman kept focusing on.</p><p>'It couldn't be,' he thought to himself shaking his head unable to fathom the possibility.</p><p>His mind was playing tricks on him like it had so many times before. Too many times it lied to him and made him believe. Made him think she was really there was she wasn't. Made him smell her perfume where it never was or hear her laughter in the silence of the night.</p><p>Too many times while out with the boys he'd catch a glimpse of what he could only wish was her.  The back of a head with familiar hair color, the same bounce as they moved.  He'd close in too deep in the belief it was her only to be disappointed yet again.  She had to have been living in New York or L.A. maybe even London. Probably married to some rich asshole with kids and a pompous little fluffy dog with a name like Chauncy because that's what the douche bag husband wanted.  </p><p>A terrible man who probably never knew her at all; never knew the real her.  All Bray kept thinking was that some undeserving jackass wormed his way into her heart and most likely changed her to fit some image that he wanted, not her.  Was she loved?  Was she taken care of?  Did she ever follow around their bands or visit the places they wanted to travel?  Did Y/n even think of him at all or was she able unlike him to move on with her life?</p><p>He stood in silence with an interest he couldn't understand. Watching the match up on that television screen backstage waiting for his promo to start. Mask snug around his face, leather jacket sticking to his sweaty skin. Thoughts of what fans would think of the newest segment that would air before he headed out to the ring for his fight.</p><p>The sound of that scream echoing in his head again as Rollins and Lynch kicked at her. That sound, he knew that sound. It'd been burned into his subconscious since childhood. Running to the gorilla and through the curtain ignoring the yells of his name behind him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>His music qued up hastily and blaring throughout the arena when it shouldn't have been had the crowd in an uproar. The crowd was on their feet cheering and screaming, stomping on the floor of the arena in a craze.  He came barrelling down the ramp like a madman escaping the pits of hell, sliding into the ring kicking Rollins in the face.</p><p>A kick that held a harsh anguished power slammed to the side of his face that sent him flying through the ropes and out of the ring. Becky backed away nervously, slipping outta the ring pulling Rollins with her. No one except Daniel Bryan was set to meet with the Fiend tonight, but there he was standing protectively over the new talent.</p><p>He knew he was getting fined for his actions and he couldn't have cared less. Falling to his knees looking over her in a haze. She was curled up trying to protect her face with her arms. Concern flooding him, hidden beneath the mask seeing her bleeding from the corner of her mouth. The leg they stomped angled awkwardly and swelling, he was reliving a reoccurring nightmare.</p><p>There he was in shock leaning over the women who used to live next door. Gently pulling her arms away, touching her as delicately as he had all those years before. Yes, those were her eyes indeed. The girl he could never stop hoping for. The love he could never forget, the love none could live up to.</p><p>Y/n was in pain and crying, curling in on herself like she did when they were kids after she'd fallen out of his treehouse. Tears streaming down her face and splashing over the mat. Little salty darkened circles littering the space around her. She let out a pitiful sob, a frightened whimper staring into the face of the Fiend. Cowering and closing her eyes awaiting a new attack.  The woman before him had let out a pained screamed of fear just like she had as a young girl.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Y/n?" Brushing the hair from her face, she opened her eyes hearing his voice.</p><p>"WinRo?" Trying to sit up in disbelief staring at the intense gaze of orange contacts. She'd never forgotten that deep scratchy voice.</p><p>He grinned ear to ear, not that she could see it.  Hearing the nickname she'd bestowed upon him after the first time he'd rescued her from a pack of bullies in elementary school.  What was this warmth?  Was he actually 'feeling' something after so much emptiness and numbness?</p><p>"What the hell are you doing here?" Blinking up at him as if he were a hallucination.</p><p>"I could ask you the same thing darlin'," raspy laugh.</p><p>He helped her out of the ring. Shaky on her feet, not able to put her weight on her bad leg. Bray did what he never thought he could again, swept her up into his arms, and carried her up the ramp. The fans were losing their shit screaming and cheering. Thunderous applause ringing through the arena.</p><p>"Never thought I'd find you," sighing, resting her head on his shoulder staring up at him in awe.</p><p>"I kept looking for your name on the best sellers list." She couldn't see it, but she could hear that goofy smile of his. Picturing those dimples as he grinned.</p><p>Stepping through the curtain, pushing medics away as he carried her down the hall towards the staff doctor. Ignoring the pleas and offers of help from them as they chased after him.</p><p>"I tried," hiding her face. "One too many rejections and I lost faith."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He stayed with her through her examination. Held her hand as he drove her to the nearest hospital as the staff doctor advised for x-rays. Bray stayed by her side in silence even though there was so much to say. Sweaty fingers laced between others, a hold so tight it made their hands numb, and yet they didn't let go.</p><p>Loopy on pain meds, mumbling on the drive back to her hotel. Bandages wrapped around her leg to quell the swelling from the torn muscle in her calf. She was speaking of memories past, of childhood antics and songs they could never get enough of. Of bands, they planned to see together live in concert and movie dates. Sneaking down to the lake after midnight and swimming under the stars.</p><p>She giggled regaling their first kiss and all that came after. Y/n groaned out a sigh over how safe his hugs had made her feel and how empty she'd felt all these years without them. Rambling away about the little silver ring he'd given her as a promise to love her forever and how it was tucked safely away in her wallet, afraid to wear it while she wrestled in case it got lost. She chatted away until the stars outside the car window drew her attention and silence filled the air.</p><p>Bray got a sentimental thrill helping her out of the car, it felt like old times. Stealing his father's car for late-night drives. Opening her door like a gentleman should, seeing the flustered mess and shy smile on her face when he did. Reliving that moment again as he opened her car door, lifting her up in his arms and holding her close. Waltzing through the lobby and up to her room, all the while she broke the silence mumbling about the boy she loved long ago.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Her room was just as plain and minimal as his, no-frills. Luggage and clothes scattered over the bed and the floor. Several books stacked on her nightstand, bookmarks in each one. He smiled fondly, forever the multitasker Y/n was. Setting her in her bed, carefully pulling off her ring boots. He placed everything she could have needed within reach. A part of him wanted to stay, but after all the years, all that time had passed, would she really want him to? Surely there was someone in her life.</p><p>"You're not going are you WinRo?" Groggily reaching out her hand, grabbing ahold of his.</p><p>"I'll stay if you want," smiling down at her softly. The mask and contacts were gone, left in the rental car; only the clothes of the Fiend remained.  "Won't your husband mind?"</p><p>"What husband?" She scoffed, even in the dim light he could see her eyes roll.</p><p>"Boyfriend?"  Why was he letting himself get his hopes up?</p><p>"Haven't had one in years."  Sighing, closing her eyes as she leaned back into the headboard.</p><p>"Oh."  Such a simple little word that held so much weight.  Staring down at her, afraid to sit on the bed, afraid to be so close.</p><p>"Reminds me of those nights we used to sneak out to the treehouse," giggled in her pain killer infused state as he finally slumped beside her tucking a pillow under her leg.</p><p>"This is more comfortable than that futon mattress in the treehouse though."  The laugh felt too good to be true.  When was the last time he honestly laughed he questioned himself?</p><p>Laying in silence, so many things to say, none of them wanting to be spoken. Too many years in search of the other and now that they were side by side fear and doubt was taking over. Was that love still there? Did hearts still beat their affectionate love song? Was it too much to believe that time hadn't changed a thing? Love was fickle and love could be fleeting, but was it as strong as their heartache at the loss of it made them believe?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"I tried to come back to you." The pain killers acting like a truth serum. "I ran away so many times, but they'd find me and drag me back."</p><p>He didn't know what to say. Sliding his palm over her hand, linking their fingers together. He leaned back against the headboard listening curiously to her rambles. Thumping doubts filling his chest with a heavy ache.</p><p>"I wrote so many letters, but he convinced the postman not to take them. When he found out I was dropping them in a mailbox on my way to school; he told to postmaster that I was mentally ill and to throw them away."</p><p>She leaned her head in the crook of his arm, nuzzling as close as she could get because of her injured leg. Both of them slinking down into the bed, slinking down the mattress laying on their backs.  Running his fingers up and down her arm. Despite everything, if he closed his eyes it was like they were in the treehouse. </p><p>The noise of the air conditioner could have been a summer storm complete with howling winds. Yes, his imagination could see it. The two of them curled up on that lumpy Futon mattress in the treehouse built into an ancient tree that lined their backyards staring up at the night skies through a lopsided window.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"I wrote you to," watching her brows furrow, seeing the torment washing through her eyes, the tiny droplets as they slid down her cheek. "But I never knew where to send them, not after they started coming back 'Return to Sender'."</p><p>"He kept moving us around. Denver to New York, London, Tokyo, Brazil, Australia. It got to the point I couldn't tell where I was anymore, every place blending together in a hazy blur. He was always screaming about how I was wasting my life pining after you."</p><p>Soft fingertips grazing over the tattoos on his arm. The breathy way she sighed. The heat radiating between their sweaty palms clutched together. How could something so simple as holding hands make him feel like he was on top of the world? How could make him feel so guilty as well?</p><p>"As soon as I turned 18 I left. Took my passport, I.D.'s, birth certificate, stole some cash, and his credit card, and flew back to the states. The first place I went was your mom's house, but the people living in my old house said you hadn't lived there in years. No one knew where you or your family went."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The air conditioner rattled and clanged to life. Cool air blowing over both of them. Bray felt her shiver, the trembled shake of her body. Again silence filled the air. Eyes darting back and forth, heavy sighs and tired stares. He turned onto his side and tucked her into his chest. Stroking her hair, wanting to go back and get all that lost time back. Feeling the low hum of her breathing and its moist heat bouncing off his skin.</p><p>"Do ... do you still ..." He tried to get the words out, but they faltered.</p><p>"I never stopped," she muttered sleepily, smiling feeling the kiss pressed to the top of her head. His arms enveloping around her. "Kinda hard to forget a love like yours WinRo."</p><p>"Where do we go from here?"  </p><p>"For now sleep," she chuckled pressing a hasty soft kiss against his lips.  "but tomorrow, anywhere you go I'll follow WinRo."</p>
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